“I do not use folk song. It is
folk song that uses me. To me, folk music is not a means of self-expression;
on the contrary, I feel the need to express the essence of folk music, its
spirit, meaning and form.”

The songs of Estonian composer Veljo
Tormis (b. 1930) speak of an ancient past and rugged life in which
spirituality is integral to daily existence. A relief from the mindless
repetition which one too often encounters passing itself for music, the runo-songs
(repetitive short recitatives, performed as a call and response) that frame
this album’s eight selections “link modern Estonians to the ancient
pre-Christian shamanistic culture practiced by the Baltic Finnic peoples
around the Gulf of Finland.”

Whether or not one might legitimately
consider some of this music as Estonia’s timeless answer to hip-hop, I found
it jaw-dropping and consistently hypnotic. Within seconds, I was hooked.
Whether hearing the angelic, almost naďve voices of young sopranos, rumbling
chants and shouts of deep-voiced men, and/or soul-shaking drumbeats, I was
immediately drawn in.

Tormis captures the essence of
shamanic practice -- raw, visceral, magical and animal-like -- and remains
consistently in touch with both the forces of nature and the passions of the
human heart. His ability to take genuine folk melodies and surround them with
frequently spare, but harmonically sophisticated accompaniments, elevates them
to another dimension. It is interesting to compare his mastery in this regard
with that of contemporary English composer Benjamin Britten. But the melodies
here, whether traditional or composed by Tormis, speak directly of elemental
forces that much of English folk music addresses in far more polite terms.

The Estonian singers are fully up to
the task at hand. Their voices seem to usher forth naturally from the deepest
places within. Everything about this CD, in fact, speaks of conviction and
perfection.

The Estonian Philharmonic Chamber
Choir and the Tallinn Chamber Orchestra, both of which feature on many superb
ECM recordings, are about to embark on a North American tour. They begin in
Toronto on February 4, 2000, perform in New York, Lafayette College, Kansas City,
Manhattan KS, Ann Arbor, Chicago, Decatur, Houston, and San Francisco, and end
in Vancouver on February 20, 2000.If
you can find the means to attend, by all means do.

-
Jason Serinus -

"The Fourth River: The Millennium Revealed"

Tapestry

Telarc; CD-80534

Performance:

Audio:

In their fourth CD for Telarc, the
Tapestry women’s vocal trio creates a musical portrait of sacred thought
associated with the millennium. Drawing upon such ancient sources as Hebrew
prayers from the Old Testament, the Notre Dame Repertory, the Christian mystic
Hildegard von Bingen, a sixth century Greek text, the inspiration of 13th
century Sufi mystic Jalaluddin Rumi, Tapestry sings both medieval and modern
vocal compositions with a soulful reverence that does full justice to the
subject matter.

Perhaps you will relate to the
ultimate focus of Tapestry’s collection: “the light of hope and love for
[humankind] that are the counterpart of [our darkest and most apocalyptic]
fears.” As I have listened to this group’s journey, beginning with
contemporary composer Patricia Van Ness’ song dedicated to the angel Michael
(who plays a part in Hebrew, Christian, and Islamic religions), and ending with
contemporary composer Gabriel Jackson’s beautiful, destructively apocalyptic
and yet spiritually affirming At the
Last Day,I have been struck
mostly by the beauty and harmony that we as humans can create when voice,
heart, and mind unite. As Richard Landes, Director of the Center for Millennial
Studies (http://www.mille.org) says in his introduction to the recording, millennialism is the belief that
“at some point in the future this world will be radically transformed into a
place of peace, fellowship, and abundance . . . .”

Abundance is the key to this unique
collection. Mezzo Laurie Monahan, soprano Cristi Catt and alto Daniela Tosic
of Tapestry, here sometimes abetted by soprano Lynn Torgove and percussionist
Takaaki Masuko, have a very different sound than the superb women’s vocal
quartet, Anonymous 4. While their sound is less liquid and homogenized than
the more famous quartets, Tapestry’s vibratoless, sometimes dry voices
have much impact, especially when Catt’s high soprano, sounding something
like a boy soprano’s sans naivete, reaches into what seems like the beyond.
Even when texts are ascetic, the presentation is rich in spirit.

A definite change of pace. Telarc’s
20 to 16-bit sound has much presence and depth, as well as brightness. Rarely
will you encounter such a visionary collection.

This important recording, now
available through the BMG Music Club, features violin concertos by two of our
most well-known and productive living composers.

With memories of John Adams conducting
Vadim Repin and the San Francisco Symphony in his concerto still fresh in my
mind – the performance ended barely an hour ago – I feel confident in
saying that the 1993 Adams concerto is a great work. An energetic tour de
force, it proceeds from a soaring, at times relentless first movement, to a
dreamlike middle chaconne (a dance based on a repeated phrase), and ends with
a pull-out-all-the-stops, highly charged, and incredibly demanding rhythmic
finale. The work is rich in engaging ideas and highlycaptivating. There are many times when unusual combinations of
instruments (including keyboard synthesizer) softly mimic passages played by
the violin, adding countless colors that highlight the incredible virtuosic
demands placed on the soloist.

If you have any interest in vital,
listenable contemporary classical music, I urge you to hear this endlessly
inventive, instantly likeable, and most energizing piece. It left tonight’s
audience cheering, smiling, and almost dancing its way out of Davies Symphony
Hall in San Francisco. Both this recording and that by Gidon Kremer/Kent
Nagano (Nonesuch) score their points: this with the larger, 20-bit, surround
soundstage, Kremer’s with a more natural balance, and more of the
all-important orchestral complexity reaching my ears. Kremer may be a bit
driving in the opening, but his slower chaconne reaches me on a deeper level,
and his ending really swings. The composer has worked with both violinists
(neither of whose highs soar as did Repin’s); the choice is yours.

And then there’s Philip Glass. I
have to hand it to the man. For well over twenty years, he has been writing
music featuring the same

Doo doo doo doo

Doo doo doo doo

Doodle doodle doodle doodle

Doodle doodle doodle doodle

and has yet to register the least bit
of embarrassment. As with most Glass works I have heard, there are moments
that strike me as beautiful. If only the man would do something with them,
other than surround them with his same minimalist repetition that leads me to
forget the beauty before it has a chance to sink in.

Regardless, this 1987 concerto should
be heard. I have no quarrel with anyone who loves it, and I score no points
with anyone who doesn’t. It’s echt
Glass, which says it all. And Glass has called this performance
“definitive.”